


Lost Days At Kaer Morhen

by CelticBabs13



Series: The Witcher - Something More [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Ciri's early years, Destiny, F/M, Kaer Morhen, Work In Progress, Young Ciri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-30 01:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticBabs13/pseuds/CelticBabs13
Summary: Want to read more about Ciri's early years at Kaer Morhen? :)In "Blood of Elves," author Andrzej Sapkowski wrote about Ciri's first visit at Kaer Morhen, but the story started after she had been there a year and half. I wanted to discover what happened in her first year at the Witcher fortress and how she bonded with Geralt and the other Witchers. I had written some chapters that was originally going to be part of my other fan fiction "The Witcher-Something More," but realized there was simply too much content that would drag out that story. This way, it will free up my novel to advance the original story line much quicker :).With the advice of my awesome beta-reader @Vic-Of-Thor, we decided to pull this content from my novel and make it its own stand-alone work. It's still a WIP and will be updated periodically as I'm still working on TWSM novel.This can be read in conjunction with "The Witcher-Something More" foundHEREFollow me onTumblrfor updates!





	1. Prologue-A Letter To Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author Andrzej Sapkowski wrote of Ciri's initial visit to Kaer Morhen, but the story didn't really start until she had been there a year and a half. I wanted to discover what her first year at the witcher fortress was like and how she bonded with Geralt and the other witchers. This was my discovery and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> With the advice of my awesome beta-reader @vic-of-thor, we decided to pull this content that was originally part of my other fan fic "The Witcher-Something More" and post it as a stand-alone story for there was just too much content that would bog down that other story. This way, I can advance the original story line much quicker!
> 
> This is a WIP and as I am still writing TWSM. This also can be read in conjunction with my other found **HERE.**[ Follow me on ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14124285/edit)[Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/search/celticbabs13) for updates!

**Lost Days At Kaer Morhen**

 

**Prologue**

  ** _A Letter To Friends_ **

 

 

_Hello Friends,_

_My name is… well, you probably know who I am. Have some free time in between traveling through other worlds, so as I sit here in a chamber, the late afternoon sun pours in through the arched window. I’m in a ruin, an elven one judging by the architecture, reminds me strongly of the Temple of Melitele back home in my own world, in the Northern Kingdoms. This place, the way it makes me feel... brings me thoughts of home. I wish this was the temple and that Mother Nenneke were here. Could use her encouragement and recipes for an upset stomach.  
_

_As you guessed, I am not currently in my own world, or even dimension. The Wild Hunt has been defeated by the combined efforts of my friends, the newly restored Lodge of Sorceresses, and my father’s imperial army. It’s a great relief that that menace is over, it’s behind us now, but a new threat looms on the horizon and one I must face… alone. But, this one is even more dire and far reaching than that of the Wild Hunt... the White Frost._

_The Wild Hunt had desired my Elder Blood to open a gateway for their race to pass through to another habitable world, my world, but my gift… the blood that flows in my veins is not ordinary. Because I carry this blood in my body, that singles me out as the only person in the world, or even all worlds, that can face the White Frost and hope to stop its advance._

_The Frost is a climate change so drastic that it buries worlds in snow, so much so, it will destroy all life. While during my time fleeing the Wild Hunt jumping from world to world, I’ve seen first hand the devastation this Frost brings. Whole worlds die under this Frost - and no life exists. The thought chills me to the bone._

_My former elven tutor, Avallac’h, says this Frost will consume all worlds in all dimensions in time. My world included. So, you see, I must stop it! Don’t want our world destroyed by the Frost. With a heavy heart, just after Geralt defeated Eredin, the Leader of the Hunt, I dropped a bomb on him and left with Avallac'h's assistance to face the Frost. I could see in his eyes he was heartbroken. After all, he just gave his all to rid my nemesis and he looked forward to spending quality time with me... restful time. A healing time. But I snuffed out that dream. But even as his eyes revealed his soul, his words were nothing but encouraging. Despite it all, he wished me luck and not to keep him waiting...  
_

_The very thought of him… Geralt… my everything. The one man who means the world to me, has given me the confidence to face this thing. And Yennefer… mother. She has equipped me too in learning how to control the magic of my Elder Blood._

_So, no. I will not allow the Frost to consume any more worlds, so it is up to me to stop it, or at the very least, delay it for a long time._

_But I’m tired. Exhaustion so deep, I fear I lack the strength to keep going. If only I could be with them again. Yennefer and Geralt… the best friends one could ever hope to have. Even more than friends. Some say they are my adoptive parents, and although I’ve always thought of Yennefer as a mother, my relationship with Geralt is much more and not so easily defined. He’s my Destiny. The man who has given me everything. A new life, a new home, a new course, a new skill set, and a new family of Witchers and their friends._

_And I am his Destiny.  
_

_As I watch the countless particles dancing in the swirls of golden light, nostalgia warms me from within. That usually happens when I think of Geralt, and even Yen, but this time, it’s different. Much more powerful. Flashbacks of my first months at Kaer Morhen come flooding back to me. They make me smile and yearn for that time once again. For I fear I may never see that ruined fortress again, the castle that Geralt called home and then I called home, only after a month of living there. I wish so desperately to be back at the fortress. But to see Uncle Vesemir’s warm smile and kind eyes will forever remain a dream for his sacrifice will not go in vain. I giggle when I think of Lambert, the tough guy he always made himself out to be. Coen, a good guy with a heart of gold. His loss during the Battle of Brenna years back was a sore loss and all the Witchers felt it. And Eskel, sweet Eskel. A kind and gentle soul. He always made me smile._

_Nausea grips me suddenly as I write this. My emotions getting the better of me again? I’m not so sure. Been feeling this way for a fortnight now, usually in the mornings, but it must be nerves. I’ve lost my appetite too and… vomited this morning. Must be anxious about confronting the White Frost.  
_

_Don’t want to think of it. I stare out the window at the dazzling sunset. It’s getting colder now, the closer I come to my goal. Will fate allow me to return to the one place where I belonged and was loved for who I am… not for what titles I possessed, or kingdoms I’d inherit? Or how the Elder Blood could benefit others in their selfish desires? Geralt and the others loved me simply for who I am. And for that, I am eternally grateful and love them more than can be expressed.  
_

_My thoughts are filled with that place and read on, friend, as I share them with you because that time of my life may be lost in print, but it is forever imprinted in my soul. By sharing with you, a sense of joy with the assurance these memories will last forever, warms my heart and drives away the loneliness..._

 

_Your friend,_

_Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon_

_Aka, Ciri - Witcheress of Kaer Morhen - School of the Wolf_


	2. Determination Killed the Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another dimension, Ciri rests in a cold elven ruin and recalls another night in a chilly structure with Geralt just after they made it through the pass of the Blue Mountains. For at the moment, with her goal of confronting the White Frost, memories are all she has to survive.

_Eerily quiet, save for the howling winds roaring through this drafty ruin, I peer down one empty corridor after another. It's a strange feeling realizing there is not another living being in sight, not even a critter. Thought I'd be used to it for all the hopping between worlds and the curse of my blood and the heartache it caused me kept me from forming any kind of relationship with others. Yet, with this knowledge, descends the unbearable weight of unfathomable loneliness. I make my way back to the chamber where I'll spend the night, arms full of items to burn: scrolls, books, wooden knick knacks, and anything else that will fuel the fire in the hearth all night long. Must forget that beyond these four walls, a huge temple or palace, or whatever this ruin used to be, is void of all life save for myself._

_Ironic, this. There was a time I couldn't stand to be alone, couldn't be separated from Geralt for fear of... well, losing everything again, especially him... my rock. Now, I am truly on my own and because of him, I can... manage. Even rise above. That is what he instilled in me most. How to survive, no matter the odds._ __  
__  
_Choking back a sigh, it's a struggle to hold onto my quest and not give in to the temptation to simply teleport to him right now. Doing so is safe again, no longer have to fear leading the Wild Hunt to innocent and unsuspecting people. But unable to draw strength or comfort from loved ones leaves me... empty. An emptiness that eats away the fragile comprehension of self, unless kept at bay by a strong inner well of memories. And it's this emptiness that wears me down to the point that this may be the actual battle in the midst of this paralyzing cold._ __  
__  
_But memories, I have. In abundance. I have them because of Geralt, and because I refuse to forget any of them. I hold each precious memory of him, Yen, Triss, and our friends close to my heart, because I know what it is to have the very fabric of your world shredded out of existence in mere moments so you don't recognize anything or anyone. My thoughts ever drift to him. Just thinking about him warms me deep inside and gives me strength fueling the courage to move on, knowing he is waiting for my return, for I so desperately need to be with him. Too long we've been separated... And I aim not to let that happen again._ __  
__  
_Because of this I continue to write you, dear friends, and I sincerely hope you don't mind, for this helps me in this struggle, allows me to remember, warms me, fills me... for indeed, this might be the only way I will come forth victorious in the jarring desolation of this icy land. The scratching of the quill over the parchment is both grating and reassuring, for other than the snapping of the flames and roaring winds, it is the only sound in this place. Hopefully, the inkwell doesn't freeze or my fingers turn too numb to function before I'm through._ __  
__  
_Eternal Fire, it's cold! The fire struggles even, barely giving off heat. Stoked it up as much as possible with more scrolls and tomes for the chill bites deep. Mother Nenneke would have my hide if she learned of the burning of precious text. But, what choices do I have? She'd understand this devastating cold penetrates the soul and is the toughest to thaw... so I continue to think of home and of Geralt._ __  
__  
_Tugging a wool blanket around me tighter, it stirs a memory. I'm smiling though no one sees it. Damn, my cheeks are tight with the beginnings of frostbite. But I focus on the memory instead. The  journey to Kaer Morhen - the first time Geralt brought me home to the Blue Mountains. A week or so passed Samhain, about a few weeks after the ordeal at Chessa's house, we were pressed against time. He had set an unrelenting pace north once we left the city of Ard Carraigh. Desperate to make it up the mountain pass before the snows came, he drove us mercilessly, even after the snow began to fall. That made him press on even harder. We rode day and night._ __  
__  
_Quiet and brooding, he only said if we didn't make it up the pass soon, we wouldn't at all until spring cleared the way. And not making it home was not an option. With that, I could tell he had other things weighing on his mind for he was different, more distant and closed off. He didn't speak much, and when he did, it was curt and to the point. Something had happened at the healer's house, it must have, because Geralt was just not himself..._ __  
__  
_Bundled up in two layers of boy's clothing, soft fur-lined boots, a wool cloak, a scarf and mittens, yet he wrapped me in a blanket and held me close. I sat in front of him in a saddle designed for one person for weeks on end and as uncomfortable as it had become, simply relished nestling against him. He was so strong and able. His body enveloped me, protecting me, and he held me secure so I wouldn't fall… No one made me feel as safe as he. And at night, the few times he let us rest, he tucked me under his blanket and held me tight, his body offered warmth as we huddled underneath a sprawling pine for some protection from the snow. Even so, it covered us in a thin layer of white._ __  
__  
_We barely made it up the pass while a storm raged. Geralt, worried about Roach's safety, walked her the last grueling third of the way. He had a hard time of it, not able to see much in the blowing  snow. He slipped frequently, Roach lost her footing often, and in the saddle, I held on for dear life. Thought for sure she would stumble and fall, but she held her own. We finally made it to the top of the pass after the sun had disappeared behind the mountain tops. Roach and Geralt were both exhausted and wet with snow and sweat, so we sheltered in an old abandoned watchtower nearby._ __  
_  
_ _Eleven-years-old, I was, and still very much a princess... I'll never forget that night._

 

 

**Chapter Two**

**_Determination Killed the Dogs_**  

 

  
  
**Samhain**

 **Northern Kaedwen, 1261**  
  
  
  
"You're leaving me alone, here, in this--" she didn't falter beneath his pointed glare, "ghost of a ruin you call a watchtower?" Ciri folded her arms across her chest and fired him a steely glare of her own. "If this is your guard station, can't imagine what your fortress looks like."  
  
His sharp glower grew darker. Unable to read what he truly thought, she doubted it was anything kind, but admittedly, she'd been tough to live with lately, but so hadn't he. These last few weeks he had made her life downright uncomfortable with his body-numbing drive only the royal message carriers possessed, and moodiness to which she wasn't accustomed. Despite all that, the thought of not being near him still rattled her. She wouldn't feel completely safe until they reached his home. Her new home.  
  
"Be back in a bit," he grated. "Gonna patrol the area, gather some firewood."  
  
"I'll come along then." She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.  
  
A gloved hand shot up. "No."  
  
What? Why? "But, Geralt--"  
  
"No 'buts', Ciri, I mean it. And don't you dare follow me. It's still treacherous out. You'll be dry and protected here. You need to warm up, your cheeks are too rosy. I'll bring back firewood and we'll be more comfortable tonight."  
  
_No, don't leave me alone!_ "But, I can help gather some wood--"  
  
"Under the snow? Would be difficult."

He dropped the saddlebags on the floor and retrieved rope wound up in a circle from a hook on his saddle. Turning towards her, the glint in his eyes the only visible feature beneath the hood and the dimness of the small square room. On top of a crate, two small candles already half-burned and melted in a hardened mound of wax provided any light.

His voice softened. "It's been a long and uncomfortable journey, I know. We've been... very close for weeks. We could… you know... give each other some space."  
  
She didn't want to be alone, not even for a minute! Nor did she want to see the fatigue line his face or hear it strain his voice any longer. But more so, it bothered her that he needed space away from her. He looked downright uncomfortable at the moment. Maybe he was asking for some peace and quiet, some alone time to do whatever he needed without her clinging to him every second of the day. But ever since Novigrad and the incident at Chessa's house... she couldn't bear to be parted from him even for a short while. Only he kept her safe and the nightmares at bay. She was going to stick to him like glue for the rest of her life.  
  
Huffing, she threw back her hood and laid out her bed roll before the cold and empty hearth. "Don't be long, okay?" Did her voice shake? Did he notice it?  
  
"You'll be fine."

That soft gravel of a voice, deep and pleasant to her ears sounded sincere and heartfelt. She glanced at him. He nodded once and a smile turned up one corner of his mouth. Immediately, a sense of relief flooded over her, relaxing her… a bit, though she still trembled. From the cold? She doubted it. But, really there was nothing to fear. Who else could be around? After all, they were at the top of a mountain pass with nothing but trees for company.

He opened the door. A blast of frigid air swirled in the cool chamber.  
  
"What happens if you don't come back?" She blurted the question without thinking and shoved shaking hands beneath her cloak.  
  
He peered at her a moment. "I'll return. Have that little faith in me?"  
  
She angled her head away from his gaze and toward the dark hearth. "What do I do if you don't come back? Just answer the question."  
  
"Is that an order, Your Highness?"  
  
His sardonic tone delivered in a low clipped voice grated her. He had never referred to her that way before or in such a tone. Had she angered him? Or was it fatigue that made him snap like that?  
  
"Please," she choked out.  
  
Shifting his stance, he paused a few moments without uttering a word. Clean-shaven when they had left Ard Carraigh, he now clawed at his chin clearly annoyed at the growth on his face.  
  
“Take Roach and head north. Keep going until you see the fortress. You can’t miss it. It's less than a day’s travel now. Roach knows the way, stay with her at all times and stick to the path. Vesemir will help you. You can trust him and the other witchers. They’re family."  
  
With that, he stalked out the door and it crashed closed behind him leaving her in silence save for the howling winds.  
  
She slowly hissed out the breath she'd been holding, trying to calm her nerves. Sitting on the bedroll, she tucked her knees under her chin and hugged them to her chest determined not to let her teeth chatter or stomach growl. She lost on both accounts. The shivering that commanded her limbs was not solely due to the chill, but because he had just left her alone in this strange and empty place. Despising the feeling, she willed herself courage. She'd be all right and surely, he would return in no time.  
  
The ancient structure creaked and groaned battered by the fierce wind. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced up at the wooden beams hoping the tower wouldn't crumble around her. The upper levels of the square tower had collapsed upon themselves ages ago judging by the trees that grew in the middle standing tall and defiant amidst the harsh environment of stone and mortar. The snowstorm hadn't obscured its poor condition when they had arrived. If this was a watchtower as he claimed, what were the chances that the castle he lived in was in a similar state of neglect and ill repair?  
  
A blast of wind howled through the cracks and both she and the horse jumped, startled. The candles' flames sputtered and she held her breath.

Oh, good, they stayed lit. Hurry back, Geralt!

  
* * *

  
"Not a good idea."  
  
He answered in that same curt tone he had adopted since they had left Chessa. She made a face at him. Why was he being so difficult? Was it too much to ask?

He didn't bring anything back from his patrol other than a pile of firewood. No rabbit, or deer... Darn it! They hadn't eaten meat since they left Ard Carraigh over a week ago, and only survived on dried fruits, nuts, bread and cheese since then. She craved real food! Oh, man, what she wouldn't give for roasted pheasant covered in blackberry sauce... But, when they parted with Chessa, the healer, she had handed him fresh strips of bacon wrapped in a bag and secured with twine. Real, fresh bacon! It had been months since last she savored the salty goodness back home in Cintra. And bacon sounded awfully tempting right now.  
  
Her stomach growled angrily and he heard it. He couldn't possibly have missed that. "We have a fire and that frying pan you picked up too - we can cook it up in no tim-"  
  
"Listen," he began quietly, and tossed her a hunk of cheese and bread before tearing a chunk of bread off for himself, "it was generous of Chessa to give us that bacon for the road. But I doubt she realized… Cooking it now is just not a good idea, no matter how hungry we are. Trust me."  
  
"But, it's bacon, Geralt! And I want it." She shouldn't have thrust her chin in the air with so much attitude, but, well, it was too late. It would irritate him, but at the moment didn't care. Why was he so determined not to let her have the bacon?!  
  
"Drop it, Ciri. I said, no. End of discussion."  
  
She winced at the sharpness of his tone. He had never talked to her this way before. His eyes softened after a moment and he apologized.  
  
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. "I'm exhausted, Ciri. You are too. We need a good rest tonight. Get some sleep." Unsheathing the dagger at his belt and the one strapped to his leg, he laid the weapons on the floor near him.  
  
"But, I really want that bacon," she grumbled under her breath.  
  
"And I want things too, princess, but can't have them right now. Learn to live without. The sooner you accept that, the better. You won't be treated like a princess at Kaer Morhen, better get used to it."  
  
She stared at him, unable to say any more. He wasn't going to budge.  
  
"When we get home, I promise we'll have the bacon. And eggs and anything else you want to go with it."

“Maple syrup on flat cakes?”

He tossed an apple over. Grinning at her, the fatigue in his features was plain. “Sure.”

Unbuckling his sword belt across his chest, he gingerly laid the blades on the floor beside his bed roll. She turned her back on him, facing the fire and nibbled on the bread and cheese before diving into the cold crunchy fruit that made her shiver again. She tossed the core into the flames.  
  
The jingle and creak of leather sounded as he removed his chest armor and stretched out on the pelt. She stole a peek. His linen cotton tunic stuck to him places. Was he warm while she froze? He pulled up a blanket to his chest, and crooked an arm under his head. A saddlebag served as a pillow. Eyes closed, he stifled a yawn.  
  
"I'm tired of the road, Geralt, and my bottom is sore. How far we have to go tomorrow?"  
  
"By midday we'll be at Kaer Morhen." He yawned long and deep. "Better get some sleep. Wanna get moving in the morning.”  
  
Nodding, she wrapped up in the blanket and laid down on her pelt, clenching her teeth together to keep from chattering despite the heat from the fire. Although it cooled her temper, she was still hungry.  
  
“Geralt?”  
  
“Mmmm?” He didn’t open his eyes.  
  
Her throat tightened. As much as she wanted to express... Resting her head on the corner of the saddlebag, she stared at the wood beams. "N-Nothing."  
  
A beat of silence roared in her ears. She glanced over at him again and his eyes were still closed. He didn't move at all, except for his deep and even breathing. He'd already fallen asleep.  
  
"Thank you for everything,” she murmured to herself knowing he couldn't hear. “I'd not have survived this long without you," _You're the only one, Geralt, the only one in my life now. I have no one but you. Will you always be there for me?_  
  
“Will always protect you, Ciri," came his unexpected and sleepy reply. "Always.”  
  
Her face flushed hot. Burying her face in the blanket she smiled secretly despite it all. Of all the men in the world who could protect her, she doubted any could like he. Fate had been generous by selecting him for her guardian. No ordinary man, this witcher, but she was now more comfortable with that oddness he possessed. For she was his destiny. And he was hers. She settled her head on the corner of the saddlebag.  
  
He laid on his back between her and the door, his swords next to him at the ready. Ever the protector. Her knight in shining armor. The flickering flames danced with the shadows on his long form, his wide shoulders barely moved with his slow breathing. The white ponytail swooped from his shoulder and rested on the saddlebag he used as a pillow. It tickled her nose, and she delighted in it. This closeness... A delightful quiver raced down her back and she sighed quietly.  
  
He was the most beautiful man in the world despite his bouts of moodiness. Beautiful to her even though he wouldn't let her have the bacon.

  
* * *

  
Proud of herself, she placed the hot pan on the hearth using a corner of the blanket to protect her delicate hands from the scorching handle. Not having a good hold, the pan wobbled splattering grease on her cloak. Nothing to worry about. Salivating, she did not waste any time. Six strips of bacon, fried to the perfectly crispy texture, sizzled in the oversized frying pan Geralt had purchased in Ard Carraigh. He had mentioned something about Vesemir needing a replacement for their well-used one.  
  
The first salty and crunchy bites were heaven and instant reminders of home. The kitchen staff cooked bacon and eggs with a huge array of assorted breads, fruits, and pastries every late Sunday morning. Ah, she would feast mostly on bacon to the point Grandma teased her mercilessly that one day she'd turn into pork and some spoiled little girl would feast on _her_ for breakfast every morning. Crunching on the last few strips, she closed her eyes, savoring the delicious delicacy for who knew when next she'd get to enjoy…

With a grunt, Geralt jerked awake as if startled out of a bad dream. Nostrils flaring, his gaze should have been overcome with sleepiness, but he was wide awake and eerily alert. His eyes pierced her sharply, then found the frying pan coated with bacon grease. It didn't matter anyway, the smell must have woke him. In the fire’s warm golden glow, his eyes glinted and hardened into a stony glare. Rolling onto his knees, he slid the dagger in its holder at his hip and strapped the other blade around his thigh.

An unmistakable howl in the distance charged the soft fringe of hair on the back of her neck. A second howl answered, this time much closer. A chill forked through her. Holding her breath, she stared at the door that didn’t latch closed completely. The winds howled furiously outside.

After buckling himself back into his chest armor and strapping on the sword belt across his shoulders, he stood, a deadly glare focused on her all the while. She swallowed. Would he need his sword now? But that stony glower… oh, she angered him again. But worse, she really messed up things.

“Geralt…” she breathed. “I--”

“Quiet,” he hissed through stiff lips holding up a forefinger ordering her silent.

Clamping her mouth shut, she quaked although her cheeks burned. She never meant to anger him… Another howl in the distance filled the void between wind gusts. Roach stomped her hooves and shimmied, snorting loudly, clearly agitated. Geralt drew a glyph in the air with three fingers calming the mare. How'd he do that?

He cocked an ear toward the direction of another sound, apparently, one she could not hear. Holding her breath, she listened for anything. Nothing but another howl in the distance and feet crunching on snow. It was clear he was intent on listening for something; he didn't move or make a sound for several moments. Neither did she.

He approached her then, and she inched back on the pelt clutching her knees to her chest. Sliding the knife at his belt free from its holder, the pointed blade glinted in the firelight and presented the hilt towards her. She stared at it, then lifted her gaze up to his cold eyes.

“Take it,” he clipped, his tone allowing no room for disobedience. “Just in case.”

With quivering fingers, she gripped the solid and chilly hilt until ner knuckles turned white. Just the thought of killing… She shuddered.

Snatching up the package of what was left of the uncooked bacon strips with one hand, and the frying pan in the other, he headed for the door. She panted slightly trying to ward off the looming threat of anxiety. Retrieving a small potion bottle from his pouch, he uncorked it and swallowed its contents. His grimace shot through her. He paused, undoing the makeshift latch.

She swallowed and found her voice. “What are you going to do with those?” she dared ask.

Pausing, he slowly turned enough to meet her gaze. She stifled a gasp. His eyes glowed in the dimness! Like cats’ eyes!

He shook the package of uncooked bacon at her. “This is what they're hunting for now, Ciri. Don't want it anywhere near you. Don't you dare leave the tower under any circumstances - no matter what you hear outside. Is that clear?”

She nodded vigorously that she understood.

“After I leave, shove these crates the against the door and stay back near the fire. Build it up some more, understood?”

“Yes.”

He turned and pulled open the door in the vortex of bitter cold roaring winds and swirling snow burst into the room.

“Geralt…” she hesitated not sure she was ready to hear the answer. “How many?”

“Can handle a few wolves, don't worry.”

He had to use force to close the door behind him, fighting against the wind. She bit her bottom lip. Again, he left her alone, but this time was because of her doing.

Springing into action following his orders, she quickly shoved the first crate against the door and lifted the second empty one on top of the first one. There was a third crate, but when she started to move it, it fell apart on the spot. The two crates will have to do.

Unnervingly quiet both in the tower and outside, even the crackling of the fire seemed to die down. Aware of her own ragged breathing, she concentrated listening for any sound at all outside. It wasn’t long before the crunching of snow surrounded the tower. She clutched Geralt’s knife as if her life depended on it. A howl filled the stillness followed by another one, closer by the far side of the structure. A couple more howls sounded in the distance. Roach snorted and stomped in place.  
  
Geralt, where are you? What are you going to do? The place is surrounded!  
  
A thud on the left side wall startled her. Rapid sniffing from some creature was prominent through the cracks in the wood door and she approached it, holding out the blade in front of her.  What was the creature? A wolf? A dog? She didn’t know. But she still didn’t hear Geralt. At all. She had to know what was going on outside. The beast must have left because she didn’t hear it sniffing through the cracks anymore, but it did draw her attention to a wide enough gap between some stones in the far side of the building. Cautiously, she approached and peered through the crack.

At first, the white snow and darkness beyond it was all that was visible amidst some dark pines. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but the sliver of moonlight revealed deep human tracks leading away from the tower.  
  
Huge ugly dogs prowled the area around the structure. At first glance, they were similar in appearance to wolves, but those were no wolves. Stifling a gasp, she jumped back away from the wall. After a moment, she peered back outside. Larger than wolves and much more vicious looking, saliva dribbled from their ghastly jowls. Wild dogs?

A quick count of at least seven of them, but there could have been more. It was hard to keep track of which ones she had counted already as they wove in an out amongst each other. Geralt would have to fight all of them? A sickening knot twisted her stomach. What had she done?! All this was because of her. If she hadn't been so determined to eat that bacon… and now this was the consequence. Oh, why didn’t she listen?!

And where had Geralt gone?!

Then she spotted him in a clearing off across the way on a small incline. Geralt stood, an imposing dark figure distinguishable only by the long white ponytail that whipped in the wind and the steel blade glinting in the silver moonlight having broken free from clouds. In his other hand, he gripped the frying pan.

What did he plan to do with that? Ciri bit an already jagged fingernail.

The dogs, aware of his presence, growled at him, but a stronger desire compelled them to hunt closer to the tower. They headed this way...

Dripping bacon grease onto the snow in front of him caught their overactive sense of smell. In one motion, he tossed the opened package of bacon in the air and sliced it in half with a lightning quick downward swipe of his blade as it fell. The package burst and strips scattered around him on the snow.  
  
The wild dogs forgot about the tower and charged him from all directions as fast as the snow would allow. A cloud of white billowed up from the ground around them, headed straight for him. He crouched, swiping a gloved hand back and forth in rapid succession across the snow-capped ground. When the dogs were in close range, he stood up quickly. Extending his free hand, a bluish-white blast of energy and lightning shot out in a radius around him and rippled across the clearing. Followed by an explosion sounding like thunder, it shook the ground. Yelping, the dogs, airborne, pitched backwards, each crashed to the snow feet upturned. A white cloud exploded around them preventing her from seeing anything for a few seconds. Most of the dogs struggled then to their feet, the closer ones, stunned, took longer to regain their senses.

Ciri gasped at the terrifying and mesmerizing scene. Never had she seen that before.

With feet wide apart, knees slightly bent, his blade poised diagonally before him, Geralt waited, patient, still at first, eyeing the beasts. Then he began pacing along with the dogs, moving in sync with them. They hunkered down low to the ground in response to the unfamiliar tactic and growled with vicious snarls. He turned and looked behind him just as a second wave of dogs… no, a pack of wolves - rushed him from behind! The dogs also charged him from the front!

Crying out, Ciri screeched his name and jumped away from the wall not able to witness any more. Squinching her eyes closed, she forced back tears burning behind her lids. Pacing near the fire, she cringed while a cacophony of yelps, growls, squeals, howls, sizzling magical charges, ringing hiss of metal, and grunts swelled into a frantic and eerie symphony that about drove her mad.

Then all fell silent. Deadly silent. The sudden stillness rang in her ears and then the rapid thundering of her heart was all she could hear. Geralt!!! Oh, Geralt… _What have I done?_ Several beats passed and the quiet was more unsettling than the sounds of battle.

Was he all right?

Gripping the dagger’s hilt, she approached the door and shoved the crates aside enough to open it a bit. The chill took her breath away and blew her hair away from her face. The winds howled in the night like a creepy phantom from children’s tales. A shudder raced down her back. An army of dead beasts laid scattered about in varying positions and degrees of blood that pooled and soaked the snow around them, but no sign of Geralt.

She glanced back at Roach. The mare shimmied, shaking her head. Ciri glanced outside again and light fluffy flakes landed on her face cold and wet. Roach whinnied and danced aside, clearly agitated. But it was so quiet. Too quiet…

A ringlet of fear whispered down the back of her neck and shoved the door closed, thrusting her body up against it just as a heavy force smashed into it from outside. The momentum jolted her and if weren’t for the crates blocking the way, she would have pitched to the floor. Crying out, she frantically looked at Roach and the mare reared up on her hind legs.

A deep guttural growl and another attempt at forced entry battered her. Digging in her heels, she resisted with all her body weight against the door. She wouldn’t be able to pull the crates back without leaving the door and there might be enough room for the wolf to get through. Oh, no! What should she do?

“Geeeeraaaaalt!” Not knowing what else to do, screaming was the only thing she could do.

Where was he?!

Roach cried out and stomped her hooves.

Heart pounding, Ciri’s thoughts raced. Listening outside, she removed herself from the door and scurried behind the crates as the wolf made another attempt at battering the door. The effect was what she had hoped. The door flew open offered no resistance and took the animal by surprise. It stumbled through the entrance. Ciri backed toward Roach clutching the dagger before her. The beast shook its head, glared at her and lowered its head, growling viciously. It leapt towards her and with a shriek, she chucked the dagger like a javelin and threw herself to the floor underneath the mare. The wolf squealed and toppled over, her aim the most accurate it had been in her life - right between its eyes. A second dagger protruded from the back of its neck…

Geralt rushed through the door covered in snow and streaks of blood. Lots of blood. He found her, scooped her up off the floor and brought her shivering body near the fire. There, after cleaning up, he held her close to him all night, rubbing her arms and shoulders, all the while assured all was well. They were safe again.

 

* * *

 

_Cold… so cold…_

_The embers, red and simmering, blur into view as I peel open my eyes with struggle. Clawing around the floor, I search for anything to throw onto the fire. Does stone burn? No, silly, of course not._

_Gripping the wooden leg of a table from an antechamber, it takes all my strength to use my sword and slice it off. Can barely hold onto it. My fingers are numb, joints ache, my lips jelly…_

_Geralt… I need warmth. Your warmth... Tell me everything will be all right. And that I’ll be safe…_

_Life is so cold and empty without you..._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :)


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